A Song of Glee and Show Choir
by leapylion3
Summary: Game of Thrones, Glee!modern era AU. Contains OCs and canon/OC pairings. More of a fun project than anything else; don't take it too seriously. Rated M for cussing.
1. Prologue: Elira

Hey! :D

I just seriously felt the need to do this, considering I'm rewatching all of Glee. And my brain just won't stop dreaming this when I'm asleep. So this baby was born.

This is more of a fun project than anything serious, so don't take it that way!

I OWN NOTHING except for my OCs in this. The songs belong to their respectful owners, and the ASoIaF characters belong to GRRM. Praise.

So basically here's the cast so far:

Elira: Rachel

Robb: Finn

Rhaegar: Mr. Schue

I seriously, highly believe in the Rhaegar/Lyanna/Jon theory, BUT, for this to work, I just made Jon the actual kid of Ned and Ashara Dayne. So yeah. And then obviously he's not dead. Oops.

Any suggestions/comments would be appreciated!

Enjoy!

* * *

**_Elira_**

I dash towards the signup sheet, the heels of my boots clicking on the floor in time with my heartbeat. I slow down a bit when I notice people looking at me. _Let them stare_, I think to myself. Casually, I fix my beret as I walk by a group of cheerleaders. I readjust my messenger bag on my shoulder, my eyes never leaving the billboard. It was as if the paper was calling my name, _beckoning_ me, _begging_ me to grace it with my signature.

I set my bag down and dig inside of it for a pen. Successfully, I snatch one and shoot back up, ignoring the strange looks. I really don't care about them anymore; there's not a day that goes by without me being on the receiving end of the looks.

Around here, it's almost unheard of to be different. Being from a small town, everyone knows each other. And..._talk_ goes around quickly. A lot of people think that's a bad thing, but I enjoy it. If everyone in this town already knows my name, then less people will have to learn it when I hit the big time.

Too bad I'm the only one with that logic.

I uncap the pen and scribble my name on the signup sheet, excitement bubbling up inside of me. Satisfied, I slip the pen back into my bag and sling it back on my shoulder. 'Elira Manston' just looks so..._natural_ up on the billboard where everyone can see. A grin finds its way onto my face as I think of my name in shining lights in Times Square. _First stop, Westeros High. Second...__**Broadway**__._

You might think that I'm dreaming too big, or that my ego's too large. At this rate, I must sound like one of those cocky people that audition for a singing show, and really, I don't have an ounce of talent.

But that's where you're wrong.

I've been in the musical arts ever since I can remember. My brothers got spoiled in sports, and the arts were left to me. Not that I'm complaining. I can't see myself doing anything else. Music is my home. And I plan to make a name for myself in it.

Not that the competition in this school is stiff. Besides me, there's, what? Three good singers? But that's the thing. _Good_ isn't enough. You have to be great, excellent, _flawless_. You have to be _the best_. Since I already hold that title at my school, I know I can slowly take over the music industry.

I'm snapped out of my reverie as I'm pushed to the floor. A curse escapes my lips, the books in my arms falling all over the floor. _Just great_. I get booked and pushed a lot, I'm not gonna lie. Like I said, being different here is unheard of.

"Sorry about that," a voice mutters. I flick my eyes up and instantly feel my breath catch in my throat. Kneeling in front of me, grabbing at his books which are now mixed with mine, is quite possibly the only person who can reduce me to a complete idiot. Robb Stark, captain of the football team and undoubtedly the most popular guy in school, just talked to me. _Me_. His kind of people never mingle with people like me. It's basic knowledge; the social hierarchy of high school.

"I-it's fine," I manage to squeak out, my cheeks flaming. I hide behind a curtain of my hair, keeping my eyes downcast. I reach for a book at the same time as he does. _Ohgodohgodohgodohgod_. Robb Stark is _touching_ me. And he doesn't pull away. I feel as if I'll explode any second.

"Elira Manston, right?" _Oh my god. He knows my name_. I give him the smallest nod of my head. "You're Ryker's twin?" Oh, of course. _That's_ the only reason he knows me. My brother's on the football team with him. _You're not special enough for him to have reason to know you. To him, you're just another dork. The bottom rung of the social ladder._

I let out a huff of air and grab my last couple of books. "That's me." I shove the books into my bag, my whole body on fire. _Way to make a fool out of yourself, Elle._

"I saw you at last year's spring concert," Robb tells me, zipping up his schoolbag. "You were really good." Hesitantly, I look up from my bag and meet his sparkling blue eyes. _Oh god he's smiling at you. He __**complimented**__ you. Do something!_

"T-thanks," I stutter, managing a small smile in return.

He picks up my beret from the ground, which I hadn't even noticed had fallen off my head. "I believe this is yours?" He offers it to me, still smiling that stupid smile of his.

"Y-yeah," I mumble, darting out my hand. I snatch it away from him, not wanting to touch him again, since I'm one hundred percent sure I'd burst into flames. I don't even bother putting it on; instead, I cram it into the pocket of my skirt.

Robb hops up and slings his backpack onto his shoulder. It takes me a moment to realize that he's holding his hand out for me to help me up. I must be eyeing him oddly, because he chuckles nervously and shuffles his feet. "I won't bite."

A faint sound escapes my parted lips and I furrow my brow. _Robb Stark, what has gotten into you? _I accept his outstretched hand, the contact shooting fire into my veins. He lifts me to my feet, then picks up my bag and hands it to me. Our eyes lock for a moment, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. Judging by the small smirk on his face, I'm certain he can hear it.

"Thanks." I jerk my hand away, grab my bag then brush past him. I practically run to my locker, wanting nothing more than to go home and curl up into a ball on my bed. I'm probably the laughing stock of the school by now. I acted like a complete _moron _in front of Robb, and no way in hell is he going to forget that.

I feel my lips curve upwards into a smile as I think of his fingers intertwined with mine. My hand's still tingling from the touch. Hastily, I slip my hands into my pockets. My fingers curl around the beret, my smile widening.

So maybe I won't forget this, either.

* * *

"Next!" Mr. Targaryen's voice echoes in the almost empty auditorium. I spring out of my seat and climb the steps to the stage. I take center stage, the spotlight shining brightly on me. The tension eases out of my shoulders; _I'm home_.

I put on my most charming smile. "Hi, I'm Elira Manston, and I'll be singing 'Hopelessly Devoted to You' from the timeless musical classic, _Grease_."

"Fantastic." Mr. Targaryen smiles. He jots things down in his notepad, then looks back up at me. "Let's hear it."

I take a deep breath. _This is it_.

"_Guess mine is not the first heart broken,  
my eyes are not the first to cry I'm not the first to know,  
there's just no getting' over you.  
I know I'm just a fool who's willing to sit around  
and wait for you._"

Somehow, Robb comes into my mind. I imagine him sitting there, in the front row, cheering me on with his piercing blue eyes and his bloody stupid smile.

_"But baby can't you see, there's nothin' else  
for me to do. I'm hopelessly devoted to you.  
But now there's nowhere to hide,  
since you pushed my love aside I'm out of my head,  
hopelessly devoted to you  
Hopelessly devoted to you,  
hopelessly devoted to you._"

Mr. Targaryen nods his head and smiles once more. "Very nice, Elira."

"So when do we start rehearsals?"


	2. Chapter One: Lyra

Hullo! Sorry for the delay, but here it is! :D

Obviously, I own none of the songs in this chapter, nor do I own the ASoIaF characters, apart from Lyra and Elira.

I guess Lyra and Jon are Quinn and Sam...? I'm honestly not sure for them to be honest. Make of it what you will.

Enjoy! And don't hesitate to drop a review! Mwah!

* * *

**_Lyra_**

I shove my hands into my pockets and walk aimlessly down the empty hallway, waiting until my older brother comes to pick me up. I hear my phone buzz in my backpack, but I ignore it. Probably just my mum checking in on my for the umpteenth time today. _I'm not five years old, Mother. I can handle myself._

Because of my dad's job, we move around a lot. And, also because of that, I don't have the best relationship with my parents. They see absolutely nothing wrong with pulling me away every couple of years from my friends and everything I've built. My siblings don't seem to mind, though, so they consider me the 'troubled' child.

I guess I have to agree.

So here's my first day as Westeros High. Woopdeedoo. It's been pretty normal so far. In other words..._boring_.

I pass by the main office, whistling to the tune playing on my iPod. _I keep looking at the sky, 'cause it's getting me high. Forget the herse, 'cause I never die. I got nine lives, cat's eyes…_I notice a signup sheet stuck to the middle of it. Curious, I take a few steps closer to get a better look.

_Glee Club Signup Sheet. Everyone and anyone welcome!_

"Desperate much?" I mutter under my breath, my eyes scanning the list of names. Only four or five kids signed up. _Poor saps…_

Still...what the hell? Can't hurt in trying out. Plus, my mum wanted me to join a club. Maybe I'll have a nice surprise for her when I get home for once.

_Auditions: Friday after school._

...well shit.

I continue down the empty hall at a slightly more brisk pace. A new, faster song begins to play on my iPod, accompanying my change in speed. _It ain't easy, livin' like a gypsy. Tell ya, honey, how I feel. I've been dreaming, floatin' downstream and losin' touch with all that's real…_ I hook my thumbs into the pockets of my jeans and drum my fingers against my thighs, still whistling softly.

I turn the corner, coming upon a new- and, _surprise_, deserted- hall, with rows upon rows of lockers. I see a kid down the hall, a giant duffel bag on his back. "Hey, Mop Top," I call, tugging out one earphone.

He looks up, and even without my glasses I can see the puzzled expression on his face. "Sorry," he replies, putting his bag on the ground. "Were you talking to me?"

I shrug dramatically. "I don't see anyone else in these hallways." I reach the boy, spinning the wire of my earphone around like a lasso. Subtly, I give him a onceover; pretty cute. Grey eyes, pouty lips, and the curliest fucking hair I've ever seen.

I give him my sweetest smile. "Would you be a doll and direct me to the auditorium?" I can't help the slight Georgian accent that slips into my speech; with all the times I've moved around, my voice is the strangest mix.

"You auditioning for Glee Club?" he asks casually, closing his locker.

The smile falls right off my face. I stare at him seriously with bright, unblinking green eyes. "No, I'm here for Alcoholics Anonymous." He gapes at me, looking like a deer caught in headlights. I keep the straight face for a moment longer before I burst out laughing. "You should see your face!"

"I thought you were serious!" he protests, picking up his duffel bag. He starts to walk away, but I easily catch up with him.

"What made you believe me?" I continue, nudging him in the side. "The nose or the tragus piercing?" I pull off my beanie and shake out my cropped, streaked hair. "Or was it the pink 'do?" To be honest, I'm surprised I still have any hair at all; with all the cutting, dyeing and bleaching, it's amazing how it's lasted this long.

He keeps his eyes downcast and swings his bag onto his back. "It's not all pink," he mumbles dejectedly. I laugh again, but I have the grace to cover my mouth with my hand. I've put the poor boy through enough already.

"I'm Lyra Lannister, by the way." I tug out the other earphone and turn my iPod off, shoving it back into my pocket.

"Jon Stark," he introduces himself. "You must be the new kid?" Jon asks, not unkindly.

"That would be me." I kick a nearby locker with my heavy combat boots. "What's with the huge bag? You hiding a dead body in there or something?"

Jon smiles and shakes his head, his curly hair tossing from side to side. "Football practice."

I nod my head in understanding. "Wouldn't peg you for the football kind of guy," I admit, watching him out of the corner of my eye. My gaze flickers downward to his red, skinny jeans. I almost snort out loud, but manage to hold it in. _How fucking tight are your pants? How are you able to __**breathe**__?_

Jon quirks up an eyebrow at me. "And why not?"

I pop my gum. "You're pretty small." He's barely an inch taller than me, but then again, I'm wearing my combat boots. Still, I doubt he'd be more than a couple inches taller than me. "I'd think that..._croquet_ would suit you better," I tease, pulling my beanie back on. He laughs, his grey eyes sparkling.

"We're here," he announces a moment later, stopping in front of a large set of doors. "Good luck." He salutes at me with two fingers before walking away.

"Thanks," I call after him, but I doubt he hears me. I stare after him for a few seconds before pushing open the door.

The auditorium is empty, save for a few kids in the seats at the front. One girl is on the stage, belting out 'You Belong with Me' by Taylor Swift. I quietly hum along and make my way down the aisle. I plop myself down a couple rows behind the other kids and listen to the rest of the performance. No one even notices my presence. _What else is new?_

The girl finishes the song moments later. I clap along with everyone else while she blushes and joins us back in the seats.

"Next!" the teacher calls. I crane my neck and see my Spanish teacher, Mr. Targ, at the back of the auditorium. _He's_ the poor bloke that took over Glee?

A girl hops out of her seat and climbs up the steps, proudly taking center stage. Beret, bright smile, wide eyed...oh, lord, she's one of _those_. One of the artsy-fartsy, musical lunatics.

"Hi, I'm Elira Manston, and I'll be singing 'Hopelessly Devoted to You' from the timeless musical classic, _Grease_." Just from the way her voice is overly cheery, I instantly dislike her.

"Fantastic," Mr. Targ responds. "Let's hear it."

Elira clears her throat and straightens her back, her curly brown hair swishing with every movement. She waits for her cue as the band plays the introduction. From the moment she sang the first note, I know she's undoubtedly the best one here. All the dramatic hoopla surrounding her isn't just for show.

"Very nice, Elira," Mr. Targ says at the end of her song.

Elira's grin slides off her face. She obviously means business about her music. "So when do we start rehearsals?" A laugh from one of the kids at the front echoes throughout the auditorium.

"Uh, Monday," Mr. Targ awkwardly informs her. Elira climbs off the stage, her smile returning as her fellow music geeks congratulate her. They pick up their bags, and I figure that this is now or never.

"Mr. Targaryen?" I spring out of my seat. His purple eyes lock with mine, questioning and surprised. "I-I'd like to audition."

"The stage is yours." He smiles, gesturing with his arms. I nod in appreciation and scurry onto the stage. The other kids murmur to each other, but sit back down to watch my performance.

"Can I borrow this for a minute?" I ask one of the band members, wrapping my hand around the next of an acoustic guitar.

"Go for it." He digs in his pocket and hands me a pick. I smile gratefully and slip the strap around my neck.

"Well, uh, hi." I lick my lips, plucking the strings of the guitar. "I'm Lyra Lannister and…I made the decision to audition last minute." A nervous laugh escapes me. "I-I'll be singing 'Magic' by Colbie Caillat."

"Whenever you're ready, Lyra." Mr. Targ jots something down in his notebook.

I play the first couple of chords- rather clumsily, I'll admit. It's been awhile since I've played. _Don't stop now. Just keep going, Lee_.

_"You've got magic inside your fingertips,_

_It's leaking out all over my skin._

_Every time that I get close to you, _

_You're makin' me weak with the way you look through those eyes._

_And all I see is your face,_

_All I need is your touch._

_Wake me up with your lips,_

_Come at me from up above._

_Oh, baby, I need you_

_To see me the way I see you._

_Lovely, wide awake,_

_In the middle of my dreams."_

I take a small bow and hand the guitar and pick back to the musician. Mr. Targ starts to clap, and the other students join in. I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, my face on fire. _Okay, okay, enough attention for me. Go back to worshiping Ms. Manston_.

"Great job." Mr. Targaryen smiles, pushing the glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. "Practice is on Monday after school, in the choir room. I'm sure someone will show you around." He shoves his notebook into his bag and stood up, turning off the lamp on the desk. "Have a good weekend, everybody."

I hop off stage and pick up my back, avoiding everyone's glances. "Hey, wait!" a voice behind me calls as I dash up the aisle. Hesitantly, I turn to look at him over my shoulder. "You were really good." He holds his hand out, a warm smile on his lips. "I'm Renly Baratheon."

"Nice to meet you," I mutter, shaking his hand. I scan his face; blue eyes, dark hair, neatly trimmed beard. Pretty cute, yet obviously out of my league. He matches my stare, staying silent for a few moments.

"I think you'll fit right in," he says finally, a sparkle in his bright eyes.

"Renly, are you coming?" a pretty girl asks, walking up to us.

"'Course, Marg." Renly waves to me, then follows the girl off. A sigh escapes my lips and I continue to trudge along the hallways.

Miraculously, I find my way to the front door. I quickly text my mum to come pick me up and sit on the steps to wait. I see a couple of kids from the Glee audition waiting here, but they leave a second later. I purse my lips and dig into my bag for my iPod.

"Can I sit here?" Elira Manston's chipper voice makes me drop my bag back onto the steps in shock. Wordlessly, I nod my head and scooch over to give her some room. She grins widely, showing off her perfect teeth. She plops down next to me, humming a showtune that my mum used to always sing. I consider asking her what song it is, since I can't remember, but quickly push that thought aside; it's bad enough that I'm sitting next to her. I don't want to engage in conversation with her, because then she'd think I was _interested _in conversing with her, and oh lord, I _know_ she'd never shut up.

"So, where are you from?" she asks, making me cringe. _Please just stop talking to me_.

"Around," I answer awkwardly, slipping my iPod back into my backpack. "We move a lot." She nods, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted. We stare at each other for a few moments, green eyes studying hazel ones. Before I know what I'm doing, I blurt out, "What do you know about Jon Stark?"

She looks slightly taken aback, her eyes somehow widening even more. "He's really nice," she speaks slowly, carefully choosing her words. "And smart, too. Straight A's." I don't even bother asking how she knows this. "He's kind of weird though. Really…closed off. Why are you asking?"

"No reason," I reply, perhaps a little too quickly. "Just…curious. He's the first person I've spoken to all day. That's all." I run my fingers through my hair and check my phone to see if my mum replied.

_'On my way'. _

I decide to redirect the conversation back to her- a topic she seems to love- before she starts asking any more questions. "You were really good at the audition, by the way."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Elira smile at me. She then pulls something out of her bag. I take a quick peek; she's scribbling in her notebook. I can't help but look over her shoulder; curiosity and I never got along very well. I see hearts all over the lined page, with 'RS+EM' inscribed in all of them.

"Who's RS?" I ask, apparently too loudly, since she wildly gestures for me to shut up. "Sorry," I mutter, lowering my voice. "He your boyfriend?" Elira blushes a bright shade of red and furiously shakes her head. I smirk and gently nudge her in the ribs. "Come on," I singsong. "You can tell me."

"He's just this guy I like. Robb Stark," she mumbles, hiding behind a curtain of hair. _Another Stark?_ "He'd never like me back, though. He's captain of the football team. And I'm just…" She shrugs and lets out a little sigh.

"Amazing?" I finish her sentence, the word slipping out of my mouth. She whips her head towards me and regards me as if I have three eyes. "You're a bloody fantastic singer, and I'm not gonna lie- you're really pretty." She blushes even more, but I see a hint of a smile on her lips. "Just ask him out. The worst he can do is say no."

She opens her mouth to respond, but a loud honk of a car horn makes us both jump. I look up to see my mum pulling over. I pick up my bag and throw an apologetic look over my shoulder. "My mum's here. I'll see you on Monday." She waves and goes back to her notebook.

Maybe Elira Manston isn't as bad as I thought.


	3. Chapter Two: Elira

Another update for y'all! Woot!

Next chapter should most probably be Jon's POV. If not him, then Robb.

Thanks, guys! :D

Enjoy! Mwah!

* * *

**_Elira_**

My pa and I get home just in time for supper. My brother Olyver and his wife, Arabelle, are over, like every Friday night. Emont, their kid, runs up to me and hugs me, his pudgy fingers tugging at my sleeve and leading me to the den.

"Slow down, tiger." I ruffle his hair, which makes him pout; he hates it when I do that, which is why I continue to do it. I set my bag down then head to the bathroom.

Ryker, my twin, follows me, a smug smile on his face. "You're lucky I came in here _just_ to wash my hands," I growl, splashing him with some water. He seems to think that we're still five years old and it's okay to walk in on each other in the bathroom. "Now what's that look for?" I absolutely _hate_ it when he gives me that look. It's like he knows something I don't. Which, at this point, I'd find hard to believe. Unless it has something to do with the newest sports update, because believe me, I have no knowledge whatsoever about athletics. Whatever. I'll stick to singing.

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "I heard about your little, uh, _tumble_ with Robb Stark." He laughs at the pun.

"So?" I snap, drying my hands on the towel. "We ran into each other in the hallways. If that smirk is because of your pun, then you really must have nothing to be proud of." The smile slides right off his face, pride swelling up inside me.

We love each other, Ryker and I. Really, we do. We just don't always get along that well. But what siblings are perfect?

"He told me about it," Ryker humphs, following me as I make my way to the dining room.

"Well, that's just _swell_ for you, isn't it?" I retort, taking my usual place in between my ma and Flora, my little sister. We glare at each other from across the table.

"It's a little frosty in here, isn't it?" Olyver cuts in before Ryker has a chance to respond. He's always the one breaking up fights and trying to keep the family sticking together. Guess it's his job as the oldest.

My ma passes the salad bowl to my pa and clears her throat, shooting Ryker and I both a look: _knock it off, you two_. "So, Elira, how did your audition go?"

"Good," I reply nonchalantly, dunking a piece of bread in my soup. "I made a friend, too. I think." I chew thoughtfully, remembering me and Lyra's conversation on the stairs. She's different, that's for sure. But different is a good thing, right?

"Mr. Targaryen doesn't count as a 'friend,'" Ryker drawls, pouring himself a glass of Coke.

"Not him." I pout. "The new girl. Lyra."

He crinkles his nose. "Oh, _her_. She's in my science class. She's weird." He takes a sip of his drink. "Wears Harry Potter glasses. And she's always talking about her sci-fi shows or something."

"Harry Potter's cool," Olyver mumbles dejectedly, pushing his food around with his fork.

"He still keeps his wand on the bedside table." Arabelle giggles, shaking her head. "Recites spells in his sleep. It's adorable."

"_Arabelle_!" he hisses, his cheeks flaming.

"I bet you wanna 'avada kedavra' me right now, huh?" she teases, kissing his cheek. Olyver grumbles something incoherent, his cheeks turning even more red.

"And she's a _Lannister_," Ryker adds, bringing up our earlier topic. "Coach Cersei's insane, so the apple can't fall far from the tree."

"Cersei's not her _mother_." I scowl. "And Tyrion and Jaime are cool. You said so yourself." Tyrion teaches a business class, and Jaime's a substitute. Everyone who has Jaime for the period rejoices. He always lets them watch stupid videos on YouTube while he flirts with all the female teachers that walk by. He's really funny when he actually spends time talking to the kids. I don't have Tyrion for a teacher, but my friend Renly does, and he says he's a riot. I've spoken to him a couple times during school events, which neither of us have an interest in.

"She's still weird." Ryker drains his glass. "We're on our space unit, right? So she raises her hand and started explaining something about 'wibbly wobbly timey wimey' stuff, and how things don't only travel in space, but also in time." He snorts and rolls his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Olyver scolds. "She sounds awesome. If she's into Harry Potter and Doctor Who, then maybe she can get you two gits into them."

The rest of dinner is rather quiet, except for Arabelle's babblings about how hard it is being pregnant again, and my pa trying to explain business and accounting to Flora and Emont. I know for a fact that because of him, both of them will end up in the arts...or the furthest thing from numbers.

The doorbell rings a second after dessert's brought out. "I'll get it!" my ma offers, leaving me to cut the pieces of cake.

"Tell them we don't want their cookies!" Ryker hollers, making grabby hands at the cake.

"You're the one who always finishes the box," Flora points out, smiling smugly when I give her the piece he was reaching.

"I'm a growing boy!" he whines, exaggerating the cracks in his voice.

"Elira, honey, there's a nice boy here for you!" my ma hums.

I leave the dining room and drag myself to the front door. "I think you know Renly's name by now," I mumble, but the boy in the doorway isn't my long time friend. No, it's Robb Stark. I manage to shuffle closer to him, flushing when my ma shoots me a teasing grin.

"I'll leave you two alone." she saunters back to the dining room.

"Ryker's home, you know," I squeak. Since they're on the football team, they're pretty close friends. "I didn't think people still got us mixed up."

He laughs at that. "I'm not here to see him." He pulls a book out of his pocket, a small grin on his face. I lean against the doorway, acting casual, since I know my knees will give way if I don't have support. "Must have gotten mixed up in the pile when we bumped into each other a couple days ago." He holds out my copy of _Wicked_, which I hadn't even noticed I lost.

"T-thanks," I stutter, taking it from him.

"My sister Sansa saw the musical when her and my mum went to New York. She's obsessed with it. All day, you only hear 'Defying Gravity'. It's insane." He laughs again, and I feel my heart beat faster in my chest.

"Can't get enough of Idina and Kristin," I quip, nervously running my fingers up and down the spine of the book.

"Honey, invite him in for dessert!" Ma calls, and I can hear the grin in her voice. _Ma, stop, this really isn't funny. Nope, not laughing._

"I don't want to inconvenience you all…" Robb shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Dude, you are _not _leaving me alone with these girls!" Ryker says, coming down the stairs.

"_Hey_!" Olyver's angry voice carries down the hallway.

"Hey, yourself," Ryker spits, flipping his long hair out of his face. He has his crappy old acoustic guitar in his hand, and it hits the wall every time he stomps down a stair. _How the hell has he kept that for this long?_

"I guess I could stay for a bit…" Robb shrugs. He kicks off his shoes and follows Ryker into the den, where the rest of my family has migrated.

"You still have that thing?" Arabelle gapes at my twin as he sits down next to her. "If I had a dollar every time you had to take her to the repair shop-"

"Don't talk about Mary Jane that way!" he hisses, holding the guitar close to his chest.

Robb quirks up an eyebrow and joins me on the other couch. "Mary Jane?"

"He had a Spiderman phase," I tell him, tucking a leg under my knee. I let out a squeal when Ryker throws a pillow at me.

"I remember that well." Olyver smiles wistfully, looking off into the distance. "All it took was a broken collarbone and a sprained ankle to convince you that, no, you did not in fact have Spidey powers." Everyone laughs, except for Ryker, who's seething, and Robb, who's obviously confused.

"He jumped out of the second story window," Flora pipes up. Stark stares at my twin in shock, before bursting out laughing with the rest of us.

Ryker slips the guitar strap over his shoulders and plucks a few strings. _Perfectly tuned, surprisingly. _"Ellie-Elle," he singsongs, strumming absentmindedly.

Realization dawns on me. "Oh, no. No no no-" _Not with Robb here_.

"Come on!" Ryker whines, pouting.

"Sing, Ellie!" Emont claps his small hands together, grinning widely.

"I don't think-"

"Either you're doing it, or I am." Arabelle crosses her arms over her chest, defiant. "And you don't want me to do it."

Robb gently nudges me in the side and gives me a reassuring smile. I purse my lips. "Fine." I nod to Ryker, who begins to strum one of the only songs he knows on guitar- there's five choices, really, so I'm not surprised when he starts to play 'Things We Said Today'.

"_You say you will love me_

_If I have to go._

_You'll be thinking of me,_

_Somehow I will know._

_Someday when I'm lonely,_

_Wishing you weren't so far away,_

_Then I will remember_

_Things we said today_."

Ryker plays a little louder, getting into it now. He joins in, his face split in a toothy grin. I tried to get him to audition, for Glee Club, but he's pretty shy when it comes to this.

"_You say you'll be mine, girl,_

_'Till the end of time._

_These days, such a kind girl_

_Seems so hard to find_."

Everyone else joins in for the rest of the song, and I feel the tension ease from my shoulders. My family looks normal, for once; gathered around, smiles on all our faces, and all in sync. It's not gonna last much longer, that I know.

When I see Robb smiling at me out of the corner of my eye, I decide that I would get back at my brother for this. There was no doubt about it.


	4. Chapter Three: Jon

Hey all!

Short update for you guys! I'm on holiday break, so hopefully I can get a couple more chapters out within the next couple weeks!

Next chapter is gonna be Robb, so look out for that c:

Thanks to everyone, and enjoy!

Also, Merry Christmas if I don't get out an update before then :3

* * *

**_Jon_**

I plop myself down in one of the plush chairs at the far corner of the library. I always like to come here at lunch instead of staying in the cafeteria, or going off-campus. My brother, Robb, tries to get me to go with him and the rest of his group of friends, but I never end up going. His friend, Theon, thinks I'm lame because of it, but then again, he thinks anybody and anything besides him is lame.

So I come here. I end up getting in an hour or so of good reading time, which I probably wouldn't be able to get any other time during the week. There's always some sort of recital or sports game going on with my siblings, not to mention my own football practice, chores and homework.

I plug in my earphones and pull out my copy of _The Hobbit_ from my bag. Another reason why I prefer my own company; the rest of the guys always bug me about being into so-called 'nerdy' stuff. I never care about what they think, anyway; it's their loss.

I hear footsteps approach, but I don't bother looking up. I'm too engrossed in my book right now to care. It's probably just the librarian or one of the other kids who come here for lunch.

A sharp kick to my shin makes me yelp and look up. I rip out an earphone, the guitar solo in 'Come Together' now lost to me. "_What_?" I snap, annoyed at the throbbing pain in my shin, and annoyed that I lost my place on the page.

"I _said_, can I sit here?" She gestures to the chair in front of me, mimicking my tone. Lyra, I remember, the new kid. I've seen her around a couple times around, and found out that I have history class with her. She sits at the back all alone, and I wanted to go and sit next to her, but my friend Pyp stopped me before I could. Hanging out with the new kid is 'social suicide', apparently.

"Go for it." I shrug, reopening my book.

She nods to my book. "Good choice," she praises, pushing her Harry Potter-style glasses up higher on her nose. I half-expect to see a lightning scar when she flips her bangs away from her forehead. "I can't wait for the movie," she tells me, opening her math textbook.

"With Peter Jackson directing, it's gonna be great." I peek at her from behind my novel. She smiles at that and continues to take notes.

"Can't forget the perfection that is Sir Ian McKellan," she singsongs, drumming her pencil on the table.

"I didn't know you were into older guys," I tease, depositing my iPod in my bag.

She rolls her eyes. "Very funny, Stark." Lyra scribbles something in her notebook. "Anyway, I'll leave you to read your book."

"N-no, it's fine," I splutter. In truth, I'm glad that she's into this sort of thing. I finally have someone to talk about this with.

She raises an eyebrow at me, as if reading my mind. "Your football junkies don't accept your dork side?" I blush and give my head the tiniest of shakes. "I think it's cool that you're into stuff like this."

"T-thanks, I guess."

She reaches over and picks up my bookmark from the table. She narrows her eyes and studies it, turning it over in her hands. "Unbelievable," Lyra mutters in disgust, shaking her head.

"What?" I ask, slightly panicking.

"It's a Captain America bookmark," she states.

"I know, I bought it," I say slowly, attempting to snatch it back from her.

"Dude, are you insane?"

"I'm missing your point here."

"Obviously," she snorts, slamming it back on the table. "Your last name is Stark. You should be embracing your inner Iron Man."

I can't help but smile a little. "You really overanalyze things, don't you?"

She shrugs dramatically. "Someone has to, Stark." The sound of a lightsaber igniting startles both of us. "Sorry," she says sheepishly, digging her phone out of her pocket. "Lame ringtone, I know." She scrunches up her nose in distaste as she reads the text.

"What is it?"

"A reminder from Margaery Tyrell that there's Glee Club afterschool." She jolts. "Wait, how the hell did she get my number?"

"Never doubt Margaery," I advise, absentmindedly flipping the pages of _The Hobbit_. "She knows practically everything about everyone, usually before you know it yourself." I pause and furrow my brow. "If that makes any sense." Lyra laughs, gnawing on her pencil. "So, how'd your audition on Friday go?"

"I made it in, didn't I?" she retorts, smirking. "It was good, I guess. Elira Manston's great." I briefly wonder why she doesn't elaborate on her and her audition, but Lyra doesn't seem the type to talk about herself much. Kind of like me, I guess.

"She kind of runs anything and everything that has to do with music around here," I say instead, rather than firing more questions at her.

"I can see why. You like her?"

I shrug. "Yeah, she's cool. We haven't really spoken all that much before. No, wait, not true. We did a geo project together last year."

"She's a little..." Lyra hesitates, making some aimless gestures with her hands. "Quirky."

"Like you're not." I grin.

She throws a pillow from the chair at me, scowling. "Thank you for your input."


End file.
